Control
by CantWaitForYesterday
Summary: "I can't believe this.", I raise my gun at the crowd of demons running towards us. "I can't do this!" I yell. "Yes you can, dammit!" Dean growled as fires one round going through two of them. "Raise your gun and shoot, Claire. NOW!" I flinch. These are people we are killing. Yes, they are trying to kill us, but they are possessed. I shakily raise the rifle and cock it and shoot.
1. Prologue

**_This is the Prologue to my story "Control". Stay tuned!_**

**_Prologue_**

That feeling of excruciating fear _right_ before you leap over the brink of unconsciousness? The wool going over your eyes and the inability to stand up? The realm similar to purgatory that consumes your being in a matter of seconds. _That_ is what I fear most. Losing control of any given situation that will inevitably lead me to this…

My life up until now has been a series of upsets. And, leaving home seemed to be the only thing that would help. God was I wrong. It was the best possible thing I could've done. Death has become my closest friend who never failed to show up when it was least expected. Loss should also be my middle name. _This_ was the beginning of losing control.


	2. Chapter 2: Want a ride?

**Author's note**

Remember when I said that this would be coming out soon? Yeaaaaah. I'm sorry. Currently, I have two jobs and am a full-time student, but I promise I will dedicate most of my free time updating. So, without further ado, here is the first technical chapter!

-Becka

"What am I doing here?" I verbally mutter in my car. With Dad being gone, I have no idea what I want to do. Ever since he died, my life doesn't matter anymore. I lost motivation. With haste, I throw my car into drive and soar onto the highway.

I can't believe it's been two years already. Two years since he died. And, two years since I dropped out of college. Yeah, I know. I've gotten the lecture. But, after his death, I have found a more universal purpose in life. I decided to live out his legacy, and perhaps even die trying.

I zone out with my old cassette tape titled "Rock and Roll" roaring in the background when I see two men running along the side of the road. They don't seem to be doing this calmly, either. I see that they might need help, so I pull over, now in a residential area. I pull up ahead of them and get out of the car. When they reach my car, I wave my arms.

"Hey, everything okay? Do you guys need help?" I take notice of the fact that they are both a lot larger than I had expected and both are carrying guns, which takes me by surprise and I keep my guard up.

"Sorry, we are kind of in a hurry, miss", the taller man said while glancing at the other one.

"Well, I can see that." I smile. "Do you guys need help?" They look confused and frown at me as if I were speaking a different language.

"You don't even know us, we are heavily armed, and we are _running_ from something, and you want to help us?" the no-so-tall one speaks up.

"Oh, did you want to get caught?" I smirk. "Listen, I am offering you a free ride to your car or wherever you want…you _really _gonna pass that up?" They glance at each other and uncock their guns and follow me to my car. Once I buckle in, I look over and see that the two men are already inside the car. I start the car and drive off.

"So, what's the deal?" I ask when it gets too quiet.

"No. What's _your_ deal, lady?" the small one snaps. The man in the back seat tries to stop him from talking. "You just let two overpowering men into your car, who you don't even know, with guns, no less, and you are taking this way too calmly."

I look over to the tall man in the backseat then back at the man riding shotgun.

"Well, there are three possible answers: One, I could have a third-degree black belt in Taijutsu. Two, I really am stupid. Or three, I am armed with ten guns in this car, two of which are on my person at this second. I'll give you a hint; only one is false. Do you _really _think I'm scared?" I finally look over and see the front seat passenger scanning my body looking for a possible weapon. The man in the backseat is still silent, but he has sunken back in the seat.

"So, what's your guy's names?"

_To be continued…._

Again, sorry for the hiatus! Will update as soon as possible!

-Becka


	3. Chapter 3: Good Times and Bad Times

Chapter 3: Good Times Bad Times

Author's Note:

Hallo! I hope everyone is doing well! I am on the home stretch when it comes to classes. I only have less than a month until finals, then I'm home free. My thanksgiving break is next week, so expect a LOT of updates. I have a lot of ideas brewing…

-Becka

The two boys are still staring at me as if I'm a ticking time bomb. "No? Okay, I'll go first. I'm Claire Estes, and you are?" I look over again as we reach a stop light. The tower in the back seat finally speaks up.

"I'm Sam Winchester." He nudges the man in front.

"I'm Dean Winchester." He returns the nudge. I smile and feel accomplished. "So, which fact was false?"

"Facts are never false, Dean." I retort.

"You know what I mean." He growls.

"In a sense, they are all true. I have a gun on me and there are many more in the trunk, I AM combat trained, but stupid?" I pause and actually think about it. "I'll get back to you on that." He seems to relax, but only a little bit. "So, where are you parked?" I break the silence.

"Our car…is, um…Sammy?" Dean suddenly looks panicked.

"Uh…where are we, Claire?" Sam asks. The strange question took me by surprise.

"Le Claire, Iowa. Why?"

"Dean, our car is three states over!" Sam runs his hand through his hair and falls back in his seat.

"Dammit." Dean yells, startling me.

"_What _is going on?" I pull over. The boys search their pockets for something and the both produce phones.

"We were running from…uh…" The moose stammered. I adjust myself to face him.

"You really think I'm goi-"

"We were running from a demon." Dean pipes up. My heart drops. What are the odds? Of all the things that could have been said…

"A demon?" I ask. They both nod, thinking the worst. "Well, that _is_ definitely…different." I turn back in my seat and turn the car off.

"It kidnapped us." Sam tries to explain.

"Sam, she's not going to-", Dean starts.

"How far?" I interrupt.

"Excuse me?" Dean looked shocked.

"How far to where you guys need to go?"

"You're serious?" Dean said. I turn to him and nod. "You actually believe us?" I sit there and think about that. Two men come crashing into my life and tell me they were running from a demon? Do I believe them? If there's anything I believe in, it's the fear that is in these two's eyes that I remember all too well. They remind me of my father.

"I more than believe you. I grew up hearing about them. I have seen them." I pause and gauge their reactions. "My father was a hunter."


	4. Chapter 4: Immigrant Song

Chapter 4: Immigrant Song

Author's Note:

Sorry these past updates were short! The next few will be better!

-Becka

"You don't say?" Dean scoffed. I nodded, still serious. "Small world after all, right Sammy?" Dean nudged Sam.

"Our Dad was also a hunter." Sam finished. "What was his name?"

"Danny Estes." I replied. "Died a year ago last week."

"Sorry to hear that." Dean shifted in his seat to face me. "You know, our Dad died, too. Due to his line of work."

"How did you know he died fighting?" I was fighting tears.

"No hunter goes down without a fight." Dean quickly noted with a sympathetic smirk. Sam nodded along. I look around and notice that we have been sitting here parked for a while and it was getting dark, so I started the car and headed toward the interstate.

The lights of oncoming cars repeatedly shine on my face as we approach the first state line. I take notice that Sam is fast asleep in the back seat, sprawled out like a deer on the side of the road. He was too big for my back seat, that's for sure. Dean looks like he is sleeping, but I'm not sure. I reach for the volume dial to add some background noise.

"You better not be playing friggin Taylor Swift." Dean muttered with his eyes closed, causing me to jump out of my skin. God, this was going to be a long trip.

"I don't listen to modern pop, what do you think, I'm stupid?" I irritably say as he sits up in the seat. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I can't sleep in a stranger's car." Dean simply added. "Sam on the other hand, could sleep standing up." I chuckle.

"Well, let's get to know each other, then!" I eagerly suggest.

"What?" Dean asks exasperatedly.

"We're going to be spending the next few hundred odd miles with each other, so we might as well make it go quicker." I add. "Where are you guys from?"

"Kansas".

"What's your favorite color?"

"Black."

"What's your favorite model car?"

"The car I drive."

"Which is?"

"'67 Chevy Impala." I look over to him and notice that he isn't even looking at me. Well, this isn't going to work.

"Well, alright. No need to talk my ear off." I am getting irritated. "Umm, how was your relationship with your Dad?" Dean looks over to me with a blank look, but I remain persistent and wait for an answer.

"It was fine, I guess. He told me what to do and like a good son, I obeyed. Happy?"

"I guess." I answer and he nods. "Can I ask you something?"

"What's been stopping you so far?"

"How did you become a hunter?" I cut right to the point. He is silent for a while.

"I grew into it. My mother died when I was very young and Sammy was a baby. We grew up learning how to clean guns, make motel reservations, learn to take care of a kid when he was gone for weeks at a time. I never knew what it was like_ not_ to be a hunter. It was not my choice." He became silent.

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, that's pretty similar to how I grew up, except I had a Mom around. Although, she went on most of the hunts with him." I chuckled. "They actually spent their 20th anniversary hunting a ghost." Dean chuckled.

"That sounds like something my folks would've done, too." I chuckle again. "So, why were you in Le Claire? Do you live there?"

"I don't live anywhere really. I'm trying to figure some things out. I'm from Chicago, but after my father passed, I just kind of went on an endless drive and ended up there." Dean seems interested. "Ever since he died, I made a promise to myself that I would do everything in my power to find what kill him and then kill it."

"Whoa, you…want to be a hunter?" When I nod, he frantically starts shaking again. "No, no. You do _not_ want to be involved in this life, Claire. You somehow avoided this life up until now. Don't waste it." I stop the car to go to the nearest gas station.

"My father was the world to me and I assume you feel the same way about yours. He did nothing but do everything in his power to protect me, hell, protect the world if he could. Don't try and tell me that when your father died, you didn't feel entitled to do something in return. Even just this once." Dean leans against the window and gazes at me.

"Can't argue with that." He simply says.


	5. Chapter 5: Urgent

Chapter 5: Urgent

Author's Note: I am on a roll! I am extremely excited about this story. The posts will be getting longer. Side note, though: Please leave reviews as this is my first story that I've written that is _in order _haha. And, I am overwhelmed by the amount of views this story is getting too! Hope all is well!

-Becka

After driving for what seems forever, Dean and Sam wake up. We are still in the Midwest and are about to reach the edge of Illinois.

"How long have you been driving?" Sam worriedly asks. I absentmindedly rub my eyes and scratch my head.

"Since we started."

"Jesus, Claire. We need to stop. It's been over 24 hours!" Dean screeches.

"I've gone longer without sleep, you guys. I'm fine."

"We need to get to a hotel, now." Sam rubbed his eyes along with me. "So we don't crash. Literally." I guess I am feeling a little exhausted. So, I give in and drive to the nearest hotel.

Once we pull up to the hotel, I get out to get my belongings from my trunk and the boys follow me. Once the trunk is open, I notice that this would not be something to keep unlocked. I gaze at the assortment of guns, bullets, and a bunch of other odds and ends that I had to retrieve before the family found them. I was pretty much the only one, besides my mother, who knew his real occupation. All the times I've had to clean these guns, recite spells in case of emergency. I reach for my duffel bag and go to shut the trunk.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean started. "Look, Sammy! She _is _packing heat!" he whistles. Sam swings his bag over his shoulder and saunters to the back of my car and takes a few steps back.

"Wow." Sam also whistled. They both start to grab at the guns and check if they are loaded. I suddenly feel self-conscious as if my underwear drawer was being raided. Although, the contents in this trunk are about as personal to me as such things. Dean finally comes across a couple of pictures, which I immediately snatch away. Of all the things I have to remember him from, this would have to be the utmost important. I lower my gaze to the picture and see a younger version of me posing with my soccer uniform on and my father with his arm around me. My mother took this picture about ten years ago. She died a week later in a car accident. She was excessively tired and my father was on a hunt, and we were on our way home from the big game. Thinking back on it, I still only remember the impact throwing me into the windshield cracking it, but my mother actually making it through. She died a week later.

"I'm sorry." Dean muttered. "Is that your Dad?" I nod and slowly hand it back to him.

"Good-looking son-of-a-gun, huh, Sammy?" Dean chuckled and nudged his brother. "You must get it from him." Dean winked to tried to make me chuckle.

"No, if I got it from anybody, it'd be from my mother." I smile fondly. "God, she was so damn gorgeous. I was always envious of her. She was the second best hunter I knew, right next to my father." He handed the picture back to me and I lowered it back into the trunk.

"How did your mother die?" Sam bluntly asked. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, Sammy, wanna sugar-coat it a little?" Dean looked at me almost apologetically.

"Car accident. Died a week later." They both stop and look sullen. I grab the hood and close it and make sure it is locked. "Been ten years now and she took that picture right before it happened. My father took a different car because he was on a case." I examine my fingers to avoid looking at them. "My father didn't get back in time. He never forgave himself." I start to walk away and was stopped.

"We'll pay for the stay." Sam stated. I turned around and smiled.

"How do you guys have money?" I laugh.

"Nah, we always have money somehow." Dean smiled and Sam smiles, too, as if part of a secret joke. I shrug and throw my duffel bag over my shoulder and make my way to the building.

Once we open the door to the room, the sight of a bed almost brings me to my knees. My bag slips in between my fingers and I decide to skip the shower for now. I let my body fall face first into the bed and with my eyes closed, I use my feet to take my shoes off one at a time. My vision starts to fade as I go unconscious.

_Crash._

The sound of glass shattering fills my ears as I feel my body being jerked out of my seat as easily as a ragdoll. When I open my eyes, everything is black. The pain coursing through my body and not one single inch was without pain. When I finally become aware, I realize that my body is wedged in between the windshield and the dashboard. Somehow my body was able to fit, but it doesn't make sense as to why I didn't fly out when there is a perfect circle pierced through the windshield directly beside me. I then realized what was missing.

"Mom?" my voice came out hoarse to the point I beyond recognition. I repeatedly call out for help and try to free myself from the glass. I continue to ask for my Mom until my voice is gone. With sudden adrenaline, I decide that I am not dying here and start to drag myself out from under the glass. The shards scrape and tug at my skin all the while I am grunting and crying. Once I finally see clearly, I find my mother laying on the pavement with her limbs distorted and bent out of shape. I then deduce that the hole in the windshield was from her. My breathing became hollower as I start crawling to her. I try to stand up, but there is a large shard of glass sunken into my leg, so I make due with crawling. After what seems like forever, I still can't reach her. I let out one more garbled "MOM" which leaves a daunting echo before my body finally lets me reach her.

When I prop myself onto my hands, pieces of glass fall from my hair and clothes. I reach out for my mother's face and caress her cheek, which is covered with micro-scratches. Despite the accident, she still looks breathtaking. I whisper continuously to try to wake her up, but it doesn't work. I finally accept that she isn't bouncing back from this one. I lean over her body and touch her face again. Her eyes open and the whole of her eyes are black and she grabs my hands and screams a garbled mess. I scream along with her and my eyes widen to the point where they might roll out of my head. I continue screaming until someone starts to shake me. I am confused as to why I am being shaken when I am looking at my mother. I then realize that I am dreaming.

"Wake up, dammit!" Dean is hovering over me on the bed closest to the window with his hands on my shoulders. Once I come to, I stop screaming. "Jesus, are you alright?" he gets off me and guides me off my back to lean up. I rub my eyes and realize that we have only been here for a couple of hours. Oh, what the people next door must think. Sam is standing next to us over the bed next to his laptop worriedly.

"I'm fine. Just a nightmare." I shrug it off. Something was different about this dream. Those eyes. I've never seen anything like it.

"Hell of a nightmare, Claire." Dean said. "What was it about?"

"I don't remember," I lied.

"Bull. You don't forget that." Dean got off the bed and glares at me.

"Listen, I need some fresh air. I'll be back." I make my way over to the door and I look back at the boys right before the door shuts and they look beyond confused. Once it is closed, I run as fast as I can to the nearest bathroom and puke my guts out.

To be continued…

Please feel free to comment and review, it would be greatly appreciated for a new writer like me:D


	6. Chapter 6: Have A Drink On Me

Chapter 6: Have a Drink on Me

Author's Note: Hello! At the moment I am currently on break and it feels like Frozone's armpit in Illinois. I am really sorry about lack of updates, I PROMISE I will get better haha

_The screaming._ It still is echoing in my mind as I force my hands into the walls of the bathroom stall. Those eyes are haunting my conscious mind. A soft knock on the stall makes me jump.

"You in there?" I hear Dean's voice on the other side of the door.

"Yes." I stutter out.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks.

"There's nothing to talk about." I turn around and unlock the door and see him leaning against the sinks. He has his arms crossed around his chest and is staring blankly at me. I wipe my mouth and go to the sink, but he stands in my way and tries to read my face. I try to move to the side, but he moves along with me. I stop and look down and he hands me a piece of gum. I nod my gratitude and wash my hands.

"Don't insult me." Dean says while he grabs paper towels for me. I grab the towels from him.

"Why would I do that?" I mutter, looking at my drying hands.

"Let's grab a bite to eat. You have to be hungry now." I stand there as he opens the door and we look at each other for a second. Finally, I walk out of the door.

The smell of a diner will always be a comfort to me. I used to come to our local diner almost every Saturday and on my birthday. Sam, Dean, and I take a seat in the farthest booth from everyone else. Dean orders a bacon cheeseburger and I follow suit because I am suddenly extremely hungry.

"So, what was the dream about?" Sam blurts out. I stop the burger midway and sit it down. I sigh.

"It was about my Mom, alright? I relived the accident. Like, almost exactly."

"Almost?" Dean interjected. I look up at him and Sam seeing that they hadn't touched their food.

"You guys will think I'm crazy." I chuckle as I take a bite of my burger.

"Try us." Sam said.

"You guys are hunters, right?" I start. "You've seen demons, ghosts?" They nod together and start to frown. "Well…I think I saw one in there."

"What did you see, Claire?" Dean groaned.

"My mother's eyes were black." I become annoyed. "She grabbed my hands when I reached out to her corpse and she started screaming some high-pitched garbage." The boys hardly changed their demeanor.

"Have you ever seen her like that in your dreams?" Dean became intrigued. I shake my head.

"The thing is, it felt like I was reliving it. I felt my body being crushed by the windshield and glass cutting me. I even felt her hands on my wrists. I've never felt like this before. I only ever felt like I was hovering over the accident, not living it all over again."

"Do you remember what she said?" Sam said.

"No, it was too painful to listen to. It hurts my head. It wasn't English, that's for sure." I lean back as I take one last bite. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was Latin." That made the boys look up from the table. I place my head in my hands and start shaking the sound from my mind. "Why would I dream that my mother was a monster?" Sam's hands reached for mine and slowly guided them back to the table.

"It's okay, Claire. No one can control their dreams. It has to be normal to have nightmares about traumatic events. Hell, Dean and I have them all the time." Sam chuckled and Dean made an agreeing face as he took a drink of coffee.

"It's been ten years, why is it still happening?" I groaned.

"Things like that you don't just 'get over', Claire. You learn to cope. What takes someone two months to cope can take someone two years, depending on the situation." Dean rested his arm on the back of the booth and sighed. He stopped mid-sigh and looked over at me. "_Still?_" he asked. "Have you seen your mother like that before?"

_Damn. _I thought to myself. "No, it's not the first time."

"How involved were you in your Dad's hunting?" Dean asked.

"Never even fired a gun. I mean, I have, but not at _anyone_." I retorted before a sip of coffee. The boys looked less than impressed. "I really would love to hunt with you guys."

"No offense, but why the hell would you want that?" Sam asked.

"After my Dad died, I had absolutely no one. I was always the one helping him with leads and researching day in and out so he knew what he was doing and where he was going. Despite that, I felt useless. All I did was read or type on a computer. I never saved his life, nor did I do anything vastly important. I want to live my life knowing I was able to save someone. Even if it's just one." I hold my breath and look at the boys through my eyelashes.

"I'll call Bobby to see if he has anything." Sam looks at his phone and leaves the booth. Once he's gone, I look at Dean to see him looking at me.

"What?" I suddenly feel self-conscious. He shifts to face me.

"Why do you have this need to prove yourself?" he narrows his eyes as I fiddle with my fingers.

"I just told you. I don't want to be a bump on a log anymore."

"You know there are safer ways to make a difference." Dean scoffed. "But, you seem like the kind of girl who is arrogant, stubborn, a hard-ass, and won't take 'no' for an answer." I turn towards him and he puts his guard up as if I'm about to slap him. I consider it. "But, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the same way. You just have this…light and naïve-ness to you. Like an innocence." I finally look up at him and he nudges me to get off the booth. I listen to him and he follows me. Once we are standing in front of the booth, he reaches in his pocket and takes out a necklace. The necklace has a black chain with a small clear jar attached to it. Inside the jar is a white crystal-like substance. "It's salt." He notices my confusion. "Demons hate it and will stall them for a few moments, which is much more than you'll probably need because you won't be far from us anyway."

"Wait. You mean…I can hunt with you?" I take the necklace.

"We will start with small stuff to give you a little taste of the life." He replied and turned me around once he noticed that I'm struggling.

"We'll be here for hours." His warm hands take me by surprise as they wrap around my neck to reach for the chain. I hand it to him and he quickly clasps it. He turns me back around and guides me out of the diner.

Once I start the car, Sam slaps the phone shut and sighs.

"Got anything?" Dean asked. Sam turned to face Dean who is sitting in the backseat.

"Well, Bobby said that there is a lead in St. Louis, which isn't far from here and is on our way to our car."

"What kind of lead?" Dean asks.

"So, get this," Sam chuckles. "He said there have been people calling the police very recently reporting stolen…you ready for this? Dolls." I turn the music down all the way and frown.

"You mean like Chucky?" I ask. Sam nods.

"Well, that's just great. We got a Barbie Bandit. How do we know its supernatural and not just some creep with a fetish?" Dean has the most annoyed look on his face at this point.

"Because the dolls appear to be returning to the same house they were reportedly stolen from. But, that's not the weirdest part, once the dolls are returned, they seem to take a life of their own. The people also report the dolls moving and even one woman had her hair pulled." Sam pulled out a map and started to guide me to Missouri.

"Do you even have the materials for this hunt, Claire?" Dean asked.

"You mean, she's going to help us hunt?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Yes. Now returning to my original question."

"I'm not sure. I mainly have artillery and what you saw in the trunk." I reply.

"Well, if this is just a possession, we should be okay." Dean answered. "But, first things first: we gotta teach Claire here how her little toys work."

Author's Note: Please review and I'm super ultra mega sorry about the hiatus!


	7. Chapter 7: Riding the Storm Out

Chapter 7: Riding the Storm Out

Author's Note: Hello again! Hope everyone is doing well. I am starting to get really excited about this story, I have a lot of twists and turns coming up that will be sure to rustle your jimmies. (sorry, I got excited xD) I am confident that I will be able to update once a week now. I start school again on the 21st and I will do my best to cram a bunch in there. Please review so I know how I'm doing

"Dean, this is kind of freaking me out." I shakily aim the pistol at the bottle Dean propped up on a railroad tie fence. He stands behind me and adjusts my grip and arms. I try hard not to notice the closeness and warmth coming off of him. His scent is a mix of leather and whiskey and somehow it was comforting.

"Just relax. Lower your arms a little bit." His hands gently guide my arms downward. "Now, one thing you should know about guns is that they have what's called 'recoil'. This means that when you shoot it, the force can propel the gun backward and I've seen pretty brutal examples of guns flying back into the persons face or blowing their fingers off. Which is what you are going to do if you don't move your fingers, Claire." I notice my finer is over the barrel and I quickly remove it and Dean can't help hide his smirk. "Stick with me kid, I'll show you how to NOT die." I smile and adjust my grip. The makeshift shooting range has become extremely quiet. The only gun I have ever fired was extremely small, kind of like the ones you see in James Bond, the ones you can fit in your pocket for a convenient kill. I zero in on the target and shoot the bottle off of the fence. The gun did propel back but to my surprise my face and fingers are intact. My face lights up and I grin as I look at Dean who looks surprised and has his arms up to protect his body.

"How'd I do?" I hand the gun to Dean and he never breaks eye contact.

"Where have you been all my life?" I immediately laugh out loud. This is the first time in a long time where I felt happy enough to laugh. Dean looks surprised yet again and smirks and looks over at Sam who is watching us from my car and sitting on the hood. I suddenly felt like a kid again who was just told the corniest of jokes. "You must have gotten that from your father, the whole shooting bit." I think about that and realize he is probably right. I always watched his technique and how he managed a gun. Without realizing it, I throw my arms around Dean and hug him tightly. There's that smell again. It's so calming, yet almost dangerous. He slowly puts his arms around me returning the hug.

As we cross the border into Missouri, it is starting to get dark. Sam knocks Dean and me out of a reverie.

"Wait! Claire doesn't have any fake ID's!" Dean suddenly realizes the same thing.

"Fake ID's? Why would I need that? I'm of age." I chuckle.

"No, what he means is, we use fake ID's to look like officials. We pretty much have an ID for everything; FBI, CIA, pretty much every police department." Dean explains.

"That couldn't sound any more illegal if you tried." I groan. "How long have you guys been doing this?"

"We learned it from our Dad and yours probably did it, too." Sam said.

"How are we going to get me a fake ID?"

"Bobby probably knows a guy in the St. Louis area." Sam flips open his phone and dials Bobby. While he's talking to Bobby, I start thinking about the sheer wrong this feels like. Yet, I still want to do it. I am tired of feeling too scared and these boys know what they are doing. I think.

"Okay, go in the direction of St. Louis. His name is Donald." Sam closed his phone. "He'll be able to help us out."

"Wait, how will I be able to _dress_ the part?" I ask worriedly. I only have street clothes in my trunk. Dean reaches in his wallet and hands me a card.

"We'll stop at a store in the morning and use this credit card, but for now, we need to find a hotel. Sammy?" Sam whips out a map and guides us to the nearest hotel.

When we drive up, the hotel looks extremely nice. How do these boys afford this?

"How much money do we have?" I ask.

"We got money."

"How? You don't get paid for this gig."

"Wanna know the truth?" Dean asks. "Credit card scams." I feel like I should be shocked, but for some reason I am not.

"Alright then. I'll pay for tonight." Sam and Dean look at each other and frown.

"How can Sammy?" Sam whips out a map and guides us to the nearest hotel.

When we drive up, the hotel looks extremely nice. How do these boys afford this?

"How much money do we have?" I ask.

"We got money."

"How? You don't get paid for this gig."

"Wanna know the truth?" Dean asks. "Credit card scams." I feel like I should be shocked, but for some reason I am not.

"Alright then. I'll pay for tonight." Sam and Dean look at each other and frown.

"How can _you _afford it?" Sam asks.

"When my grandmother died last year, she left all of her money to me and her possessions to her children. She told me the only reason she gave me the money is because I am the only one she trusts to spend it responsibly."

"Save your money, this isn't exactly responsible." Dean said. I knew there was no use in arguing, so I accepted.

When we got into the hotel lobby, we were told that due to the sheer amount of kids on spring break, there are only rooms with single beds. I groan and we accept, because we need the sleep. Once we enter the room, we are astounded. How could a bunch of teenage kids afford luxury like this? I drop my bags by the door and absentmindedly look around the room. There is a walk in shower and a load of hotel soaps. The floors are made of hand laid tiles that create a beautiful design. I turn my attention to the bed which has a white fabric canopy with not so bright lights that set a calming tone to the room.

"I've never been in such a nice place in my life." I slide my hand across the cotton sheets. I turn around to see the boys still standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. "Oh, I see. You guys can take the bed, to avoid any sudden awkwardness."

"Whoa, whoa. I am _not _sleeping next to a damn moose, he hogs the blankets and has done that since we were kids. Plus, he farts like a damn skunk." Dean looks over at Sam, who looks annoyed.

"Alright. I'll take the couch, you guys take the bed. It's that simple." Sam replied. I suddenly feel self-conscious again and try to keep my cool.

"That alright with you, Claire?" Dean asked. "I can sleep on the flo-"

"No one is sleeping on the floor, Dean. I don't mind. Really." I plaster on a small smile. Dean nods quickly and takes off his jacket. I follow suit and then the boys start to undress and I feel the urge to go to the bathroom to change, even though I'm practically wearing what I'll wear to bed under my clothes. I shove on shorts and adjust my tank top and brush my teeth with the brush and paste the hotel so kindly provides. When I walk out, they both are shirtless. I feel like I just walked in on something I shouldn't have and quickly cover my eyes. Sam chuckles.

"What? Never seen two shirtless guys before?" Sam chuckles but Dean just smiles shyly.

"Not in person, unless it was my father, this is just weird. I didn't expect you guys to be so…" I try to find the words.

"Fit? Gorgeous, I know." Dean puts the words into my mouth. "Normally, we would have shirts on, but we actually feel clean in a hotel room for once, so we," Dean jumps face first into the bed and looks so comfortable. "are going to enjoy it." I smile and sit down on the bed and see that Sam is already asleep on the couch. He is so comically large that his feet extend over the arm of the couch. I turn around and see Dean looking at me. Why does he make me feel so uncomfortable?

"What?" I shove my hair behind my ear. Dean props himself on to his elbow and looks concerned.

"Nothing. Just trying to figure you out." He narrows his eyes and I quickly look away.

"Nothing to figure out here." I stand up and Dean leans up quickly. "I'm just a little more…_shy_ then I originally thought. Dean smiles fondly.

"I'm glad. Not a lot of girls like you that wouldn't jump into a bed with a guy like me." I frown slightly.

"Girl like me?"

"I mean, you have your head on straight. You are one of the few that are left that are smart _and_…pretty." He looks up at me and my face is fifty shades of red. I sit back down and mimic his sitting position. "Be proud."

"Blame that on my father. He would kill me and everyone here if he found out what I was doing." I smile. "But, don't be fooled; I'm not that pretty." He frowns and lifts the covers for me. I quickly lay down and face the bathroom door. I hear Dean's voice as I close my eyes.

"You father would be more disappointed if he knew you didn't realize your significant worth." I turn around and he is still facing me. Up close, I can see his imperfections. He has scars and scrapes all over his body. I absentmindedly reach for one of the scratches and he visibly tenses. He notices my sadness. "I can't guarantee you won't get any of these."

"I know. I'm prepared for the consequences." He frowns and I push his hair back and kiss his forehead before I roll over and quickly fall asleep, feeling like the safest girl in the world.


	8. Chapter 8: Unchained

Ch. 8: Unchained

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Just making up for the lack of updates. I am really liking the flow of ideas I am getting while writing. OH, and the title of each chapter is relevant to the chapter. And, they are all classic rock songs:D So, without further ado, here's the next chapter.

Don't forget to review!

The sun shining on my face wakes me up. I stretch my legs out and feel the cotton on my legs and the warmth of the sheets caress my face. My eyes flash open.

_Wait._

I finally process my surroundings and start to question reality. Oh, everything is fine. I only decided to spend time with two large men that I hardly know to help them hunt and drive along with me like they are under my wing until we get their car that they were taken from by a demon. I purse my lips and accept it and I start laughing. _Laughing _at the ludicrous situation that I got myself into. I finally lean out of bed and see Dean walk out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist and I immediately stop laughing.

"Are you laughing at me?" Dean stops in front of the bed and my face feels like it's about to fall off.

"No. I was laughing at my life right now is all." I squeak out. "With everything going on and how it must sound". Dean makes an agreeing face and walks over to his side of the bed to look at his phone. I can't help but admire his facial expression when he is concentrating on something. Almost like he is this serious about everything.

"Stop staring at me." Dean startles me even though he didn't yell. I run my hand through my unkempt long hair that is in desperate need for a combing.

"I'm sorry." I hurriedly get up and go to my bag and randomly grab clothes and rush into the bathroom knowing that claiming I wasn't looking at him would be useless. I let out a whispered, but long sigh and lean against the door. The steam is still in the air as I turn on the shower and get undressed. I work the shampoo through my hair and close my eyes. When I open my eyes, I look down at my feet and see blood going down my stomach and down my legs. I gasp and see it doing into the drain. I blink and the blood is gone. _What the hell. _I quickly finish up and wrap a towel around myself. I reach for my comb and without mercy yank the tangles out. Once I start to get dressed I realize that I left something so important in my bag…_my underwear._

I peek out of the bathroom and see that no one is in the room.

"Boys?" I yell. No answer. I smirk and walk calmly to the bed and grab my underwear out of the bag. I turn around and see Dean and Sam standing in the doorway. I jump and keep a firm grasp on my towel and shove the underwear under my towel. Sam quickly looks away and Dean doesn't move a muscle.

"Forget something?" Dean purses his lips. I open my mouth, but can't figure out what to say. I might as well be naked right now. I just smile and slowly back up to the bathroom door. Once I'm back inside I get dressed at the speed of light. A dark green blouse with a leather jacket and black skinny jeans. I hurriedly put on mascara and speed dry my hair. When I finally leave the bathroom, I almost run face first into Dean. He chuckles. "Was starting to think you went Elvis on us." I smile and walk past him and put my dirty clothes into my bag.

"Elvis, huh? Naw, I don't plan on biting it on a toilet, Dean." I laugh and Sam slings his bag on his shoulder.

"Got any ideas for a fake name for your fake ID, Claire?" Sam looks over at me from his phone. That completely didn't cross my mind.

"No, not really. What kind of names do you guys usually use?" I ask.

"We usually go for nonchalant band member names. Like: Elliot, Savage, all the greats. But, we don't want to be too obvious, so we will figure something out." Dean put his phone in his jacket.

"How about Lee? Like, Amy Lee? I can change the first name, but at least we have a theme going." I joke.

"That actually doesn't sound too bad, Claire! Dean?" Sam looks at Dean for approval.

"Eh, why not?" Dean leads us out of the room and as we walk down the hall, I have a memory flash in front of my eyes.

"_Mom!" I crawl over to my mother's motionless body and sob onto her chest. I repeatedly yell her name until she opens her black eyes and grabs a shard of glass within a second and shoves it into my abdomen. _

My eyes open right as the shard goes through me like butter and I am on the ground gasping uncontrollably. I cannot for the life of me catch my breath and Sam and Dean are on either side of me and my eyes are going in and out of focus.

"What the hell? Are you alright?!" Dean puts his hand under my head as a cushion. Sam looks over to Dean.

"Does she have asthma?" he asks. I shake my head uncontrollably and try to say 'no'.

"I'll take that as a no. What do we do?" Dean starts to look panicked.

"CAS. Call Castiel, Dean!" Dean has a look of realization and he closes his eyes.

"Cas, we need your hel-" Dean starts.

"Dean." A man says behind us. Dean and Sam look up at him.

"Cas! We have a problem. She won't breathe right." Dean frantically yells. He goes to lift his hand, but I immediately grab it to keep it there. He doesn't argue. The man slowly walks toward us and kneels down next to me. He lowers his hand onto my chest until it is flat against my sternum. He closes his eyes and a rush of energy flows through me and it feels like a gust of wind goes through my body allowing me to breathe. I take a long breathe of beautiful air and start coughing. I roll over so that my face touches the cold floor. Sweat has already started to accumulate on my face and my hair is sticking to my forehead. Dean wipes the hair out of my face and I feel as though I might combust into flames. I try to lean up, Dean's arms slid under me and lifted me off the ground like a child.

"I can walk." I argue.

"We are taking you back to the room." Dean simply replied.

"Has this ever happened before?" Castiel is suddenly in front of us and Dean and Sam hardly react. Did he just _teleport? _

"How did you do that?" I mumble as if I'm intoxicated.

"He's an angel." Sam quickly answered. I didn't argue.

"No, this has never happened. All I've ever had was nightmares." I finally answer. Once we reach he room, Dean carries me to the bed and slowly lowers me onto it. The boys slowly start to surround me.

"What's wrong with me…?" I look down at my hands. I'm not cut out to be a hunter. I can't even walk down a damn hallway without freaking out.

"Nothing's _wrong_ with _you. _There's something you're not telling us." Dean's face becomes stoic. My face pales.

"What could I be hiding, Dean?" I become defensive because I am truly not hiding anything.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe there is something you aren't telling us about your parents that is causing these…_episodes._" He struggled to find the last word.

"My parents never told me _anything._ All I was ever told was that my father was on a case, nothing more than that. My mother never said a word about it to protect me."

"Protect you from what?" Castiel pipes up.

"I don't know. My innocence maybe? I think the accident messed me up. I don't deserve to be a hunter." My eyes start to water.

"We understand more than almost anyone how grief can eat you up. But, if you let your mind wander, it will do crazy things. Hell, it can kill you." Dean's expression went from understanding to grim in the blink of an eye.

"Describe the incident, Claire." Castiel said. I lean up a little bit and everyone tenses.

"Well, all I remember is walking down the hallway and feeling a sudden pain in my head, which I can only assume was me hitting the ground, but anyway I had a vision that I was reliving the accident and crawling towards my mom and screaming for her to wake up and her eyes opened and they were…pitch black. Like, absolutely no color at all." I move my hands onto my stomach and close my eyes and try to keep it together. "And, she took a shard of glass and stabbed me in the stomach until it came out through my back. And, that's when I woke up and I couldn't breathe." Castiel's face never fluctuated past the 'emotionless, yet confused' face, and it made things very uneasy.

"It's probably nothing." Castiel suddenly speaks up after a long period of awkward silence. Dean slowly turns back to me and rubs his face with his hands vigorously.

"Well, I'm not letting you leave, so we are going to get your ID's, so we can continue the hunt." Dean sighed. My eyes lit up with confusion.

"You mean you aren't abandoning the idea of me being a hunter?" I am shocked. Dean frowned as if I just made a stupid face.

"Why would I do that?" he asks.

"Do I look like a hunter to you?" I look down.

"It doesn't matter what you look like, Claire. Every hunter has a scar, big or small, it doesn't matter. What makes a hunter, is their efficiency and their character and their ability to kill as many evil monsters as they possibly can." Dean stands up. "We just need your ID and we can take it from there." I know there is no use in arguing, so I give in. Dean purses his lips. "You can rest here until we get back and then we try this again." He jeered. I roll my eyes as the boys pack up and I forgot to notice the fact that Castiel was gone. I didn't even hear the door close. Weird. I brush the thought away and notice Sam and Dean open the front door to the hotel room.

"Be careful, you guys." I try not to look so downcast.

"It might as well be our middle name." Dean says cheekily and they are both out the door, leaving me with my thoughts.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the delay! I hope you guys enjoyed and I will be updating again in the next week or so! PLEASE REVIEW!

-Becka


	9. Chapter 9: Kashmir

Chapter 9: Kashmir

Author's Note: Hello again! I hope everyone is having somewhat decent weather! Haha. Illinois got hit pretty hard with snow this past weekend and I had to work and make sure I stayed caught up with my homework:) Responsibilities are horrible, I know. Well, without further ado, here's the next chapter!

I hate sitting here just twiddling my thumbs. I keep pacing the hotel room and have progressed to biting my nails. My father would be scolding me right now.

"_Would you stop biting your damn nails, Claire? It'll turn into a nasty habit." I turn around to face my father. I can't help but thinking how much of a ladies man he had to be at my age. His smile is genuine, but hesitant. Even at forty-nine, he has a full head of hair with absolutely no gray hair. I hope to find a guy just like him someday. He smiles along with me and furrows his brow. Dad looks so young. He is just now developing laugh lines around his eyes._

"_What if I don't like high school, Dad?" I subconsciously raise my finger back to my mouth._

"_Well," he puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head, while my hand is still attached to my mouth. "You are definitely not the only kid asking their parents that same question right now." I tilt my head up to look at my father. "You know your mother would want you to stay strong and make something of yourself. She would haunt me if I even considered you coming into the life I'm leading."_

"_Dad, why can't you tell me stories? Actual stories and not a summary." I frown._

"_Because that would already put you through the first step of the life I don't want you to live. You are smart enough to run this world, Claire. Don't follow in my footsteps. That's all I'm saying. Besides, you got your wit and smarts from your mother, that's for sure." We both chuckle and leave to take me to the bus._

I smile fondly at that memory and am knocked out of the reverie by the door opening. I whip my head around and see Sam and Dean. Sam is holding a paper bag, which I can only assume is the paraphernalia and Dean is only holding the Impala keys. Sam walks up to me and hold out the bag to me. I glance at the bag and then at Sam and Dean. I slowly take it as the boys start to look nervous. I open the bag and grab the ID's. They are held together by a rubber band. The one on the top is an FBI badge. These look bizarrely real. A forest ranger, special agent badges, random police badges. It boggles my mind at how legitimate this all is. The laminations are flawless and have no rippling and no bubbles. My picture is on there perfectly. The names are all different, names like Ann Wilson, Amy Lee, Annie Lennox, and a bunch of female rockers.

"These are amazing." I start laughing at the absurdity that my life is becoming. Despite the fact this is all wrong and illegal, I know my father would be chuckling right now. The boys look proud as I am looking at these cards like a Christmas present. "Now, all we need is to dress the part."

I can't help but smile as we make our way to the nearest clothing store. Dean is eyeing the map in the front seat and Sam is looking down at his phone.

"Do you guys have any professional clothes?" I inquire.

"Too many, really." Sam laughs and Dean makes an agreeing face.

"In the Impala, there is pretty much an entire wardrobe filled with suits and ties that would make any CEO blush. But, we will have to buy a new one for now until we get back to our car." Dean continues to look at the map with that serious look again. We are now in the city of St. Louis and the traffic is just ridiculous.

"Where am I even going, Dean?" I look around at my surroundings and figure that we have to be close considering all of the clothing stores nearby.

"You are going to turn left at this intersection." Dean is comically serious staring at the map and looks over at me, making sure I follow the directions. I turn left and see a mass of people walking down the streets and it reminds me of Chicago. The store we are looking for is a big professional clothing store and it has three levels.

"There it is." Sam mutters without looking up from his phone. Dean looks offended and looks in the back seat and sees that Sam had been using his GPS this whole time. I laugh at Dean's reaction and he rips Sam's phone out of his hand.

"What the hell, Sam?" Sam rolls his eyes.

"What?" Sam looks genuinely confused. Dean leans against the window and looks dumbfounded.

"Technology, Sam? Really? I thought we agreed that we use maps that are ALWAYS right. I don't trust GPS's. I also don't see the appeal of straying away from classics like cassette tapes and rock music and ROAD MAPS." Dean whips open his beloved map with flourish and exhales sharply. "Well, I'll be damned. We're here." Sam looks down and smiles and tries not to laugh.

"I agree with both of you." I smile as I try my best to parallel park in the busy streets.

"What would you guys do without me?" Dean thrusts the door open and gets out before we can unbuckle our seatbelts.

Sam and I laugh as we get out of the car. I laugh and not realize just how crowded the streets are and the moment I get out of the car, a random man shoves me out of his way, causing me to stumble back into my car door. I glance up and see a gaunt man who looks less powerful than he felt. His eyes were sunken in and darkened. He is wearing an oversized jacket and baggy sweatpants and his shirt is spattered with grease spots. Our eyes lock for what feels like minutes. Something other than the obvious is wrong with his eyes. I blink and they are black. I gasp and throw myself back into the exterior of my car. Sam and Dean run over to me and stand between me and the guy. His eyes return to his normal.

"Watch where you're going, man!" Dean yells.

"It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." I say without breaking eye contact with the man. His eyes are still locked on mine.

"Keep walking." Sam glares at the guy. He doesn't say a word and saunters away slowly, only looking away from me when he is blocked by the crowd.

"What the hell crawled up his ass?" Dean looks back over at me. "Are you okay? I thought he hit you."

"He kind of did, he shoved me into the car door." I look away from Dean and try to spot the man. He makes me turn my attention back to him by grabbing my chin and turning my head.

"Are you sure you're okay? The thud was loud." I process that and realize that my car could be dented. I quickly turn around and see my car is still fine for the most part, but you could see a small disfigurement where my back hit the car. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you could see the lower half of my silhouette embedded into the car.

"Damn. You're sure it was an accident?" Dean and Sam runs his fingers along the dent and look shocked.

"I got out of the car without looking, of course it was my fault."

"Well Jesus, Claire, what was he doing, running a marathon?" Dean runs his hand through his hair.

"Let's just go inside, I'm fine, I'm insured, case closed, let's go inside." I grab both of the boys by the elbows and they follow me into the store.

The store is stark white, but the walls are filled with cute, but professional clothes. Pencil skirts, blazers, blouses. Otherwise known as: Things Claire Fails With. I never wear clothes that I can hardly move in. I look down at my leather jacket and heap of hair. Can I really pull off these clothes? I run my fingers over the sheer fabrics that are nothing but pastel blues and yellows and some dark bold colors. I gravitate towards the latter and immediately grab the dark colored clothes. I look behind me and Dean is holding up a brown pencil skirt up to Sam's waist.

"Do you think this brings our Sammy's eyes as much as I do, Claire?" Sam yanks the skirt out of Dean's hand and puts it back on the shelf. I laugh and seek out an employee to show me to a fitting room. A petite brunette with bright red heels and a fashionable pantsuit walks up to me with a large smile. Her smile fades as she sees my current outfit.

"Are you sure this is the store for you, hon?" her smile comes back and my smile turns into a blank face.

"Oh, I'm sure, but thanks for asking." She walks me to the fitting room and slams the door with a flourish. I roll my eyes and quickly undress. First up is a black blazer, white blouse with a big black bow on the chest and a black pencil skirt. I then realize that I forgot shoes. What kind of shoes do I wear with this monkey suit? I open the fitting room door and see Dean already ahead of me and is dangling a pair of heels by the heel by his fingers. I look down and see that I forgot to put on a shirt and only have a skirt and bra on. My face about burns off as I yank the shoes out of his hands and slam the door shut. "Thank you." I squeak out.

"No, no. Thank YOU." I hear his smirk and I kick him from under the door and see his feet jump up. I finish off the outfit and open the door to see Sam and Dean standing there. Sam purses his lips and nods his head and looks over to Dean. Dean starts to slow clap and wipes a fake tear out of his eye. "She's beautiful, huh Sammy?" Sam rolls his eyes and I quickly take off my shoe and throw it at him. "Hey!" I stick my tongue out and gather my clothes and switch into my original attire.

We walk up to the counter to check out my clothes. The woman from earlier notices that I am with Sam and Dean and she instantly straightens her back and puts on a fake smile. I know she thinks they are attractive and doesn't want to upset them. I can't disagree with her.

"Okay, your total is 1,996 dollars." My jaw drops clear to the floor. I really need to start looking at price tags. Before I could pick my jaw off the floor, Dean has already swiped his card and was handed a receipt. He takes the bag and starts walking for the door with Sam. Once we reach the street, I run in front of Dean before he can get into the car.

"Dean. You just spent 2,000 dollars on _clothes_." I cover the doors by extending my arms at my sides.

"No, I didn't. Herbert Rothschild did." He smirks and moves me aside and gets into the car. Sam follows suit and I eventually walk over to the driver's side and start the car and drive off.

Author's Note: I know this was a little boring, but it _is _necessary as a transition into the twists ahead! Please leave a review!


	10. Chapter 10: Into the Void

Chapter 10: Into the Void

Author's Note: Hope everyone's week is going well! Illinois is bitterly cold, but the snow doesn't seem to be making a comeback any time soon, so crossing my fingers!:) Again, if you liked the chapter, please leave a review!

"I still can't believe you spent all of that money on me." I lean my head on my fist while merging into traffic. Dean looks over at me. "I had money I could've used."

"I don't want you using money that you earned by doing good things for…not good things." He picks up the map again. I exhale.

"Well, who is this guy that's on that credit card? You're stealing his money?" I start to panic. He looks offended and puts the map down and glares at me. This is a shift.

"First of all, I made the name up. Second of all, I made sure that the name doesn't actually exist, at least not in the yellow pages. And, I have never and never will steal from actual people, Claire." He huffs and turns to face out his window. I look at Sam through the rearview mirror and he smiles apologetically.

"I didn't mean to upset you." I have never been good with confrontation. I feel bad, but at the same time, how was I supposed to know? I've never so much as stolen a candy bar, let alone use a scammed credit card. I sigh. "I'm sorry." Dean turns around to face me again and looks down at the necklace I was wearing. I never took off the one he gave me. Instead of biting my nails, I fidget with the salt jar.

"It's fine." He simply says. "Sam, where are we going?"

"Uhh," Sam exhales and looks at a small notepad he's been writing in. "We need to go to the victim's house and ask them questions. They live in the suburbs about 10 miles from here. Just keep going straight." I follow the directions and none of us say another word except for directions.

We stopped at an empty parking lot and started getting dressed. I get dressed by myself in my new professional identity. My windows are tinted, so I felt sort of secure on the opposite side of the car, and Dean and Sam are silently and quickly getting dressed on the other side. When they are finished, I am only pulling my pantyhose up my leg.

"You know Claire, getting dressed quickly is definitely a good quality to have for many reasons." Dean quipped from the other side. I can hear Sam slapping Dean's arm and I can't help but smile.

"I'm just about ready." I slip on the skirt and the blazer and try my best to tuck in the blouse. "Dammit." I mutter knowing my arms aren't deft enough to tuck in a blouse correctly. How do girls do this on a regular basis? How do they know that the shirt is straight? Won't it just fly up if it's too tightly tucked?

"Here, let me help." Dean's voice comes from behind me and almost makes me jump. "I don't want you looking like we all just got dressed in a parking lot."

"But, we just-"

"A joke, Claire. Ever heard of it?" Dean's hands move my own and he lifts the back of the blazer up and I hold it up for him. "Yikes, have you never done this before?" I shake my head and I can almost hear his disappointment. Then I hear him laugh almost adoringly. "It's so crooked and tucked in too much, you will rip this shirt the second you sit down, Claire."

"Then, fix it?" I am not liking the condescension even though he is right. I suddenly feel his hand start to tug at the shirt and I feel it rise. Jesus, how far down did I tuck it in? When he pulls it up enough, he dips his fingers into the waist of my skirt and adjusts the pin striping on the shirt until it is perfectly vertical. I can't help but feel extremely self-conscious. I don't exactly have the most "Sports Illustrated" type of body. I don't remember the last time I touched a dumbbell. After what seemed like forever, he is done and he pulls the blazer back down.

"That's so much better, huh Sammy?" Sam comes from the other side of the car and looks confused.

"What's different?" Sam asked.

"Well, nothing to you, but I just found out that Claire here is not very much used to dressing like a professional businesswoman. I had to adjust her." Dean winks at me and I roll my eyes to hide the fact that I'm blushing like an idiot.

"I was a college student, Dean. How many times do you think I had to dress like Madam Secretary?" Sam purses his lips and nods in agreement.

"Well, we have wasted enough time, let's just go interrogate some people." Dean and Sam start walking around to the passenger side. I huff and awkwardly maneuver into the car, trying not to flash anyone in the process.

We drive up to the house and it _screams_ "suburban". The siding was white with dark blue trim. The outside had an ornate mailbox with the owner's last name, _Stevenson_, engraved into it, rather than with just stickers. I step out of the car and gaze at the large house. Who knew that strange things like this could happen in such a nice neighborhood? I look over at Dean and Sam, who are already about to ring the doorbell, so I walk as fast as I can muster in these heels until I'm at the door with them. I hold my ID in my hand and let Sam and Dean take the lead as I rehearse the lines: "I'm Agent Lee." Sam knocks on the door and a woman with dark brown hair answers the door. Her demeanor went from sad to devastated one when she saw us. Her eyes were sunken in and puffy from crying and lack of sleep. Her clothes look like they haven't been washed in a few days and she looks like she hasn't been washed either.

"Ma'am, my name is Agent Perry and this is Agent Tyler and Agent Lee." Sam introduced us all with a sympathetic look in his eyes that I couldn't tell if it was real or he was genuinely sympathizing. They raise their badges and I follow suit. She squints at the badges.

"I've already talked to the police, why are the FBI at my doorstep?" she asks.

"We are just here to make a report as well, just protocol, ma'am." Dean smirks. I shift in my heels, hating that I couldn't break them in first. They are cutting into my ankle. I absentmindedly pull my skirt down to adjust it, scared that everyone can see my behind. She slowly opens the door and lets us in. The inside of the house is in shambles. The dishes aren't done, laundry is scattered everywhere. I became very sympathetic of this woman. Grief causes people to pause their life and they forget to resume it when necessary. She sits down and motions us to do the same. My sympathy for this woman is growing more with each passing minute. I notice the boys opening their notepads and I follow their lead. I take out my pen and look up intently at the woman.

"Mrs. Nelson, you reported the doll to be missing as well as your son. When did they disappear?" Sam asked the first question.

"They disappeared at the same time last Sunday." She reached for a tissue to wipe her nose.

"This is the first disappearance correlated to this case with the dolls. Are you sure he didn't just run away?" I ask, genuinely curious. She looks down. Sam and Dean look surprised with me.

"He is a very good boy, has all A's, has many friends, why would he leave that?" She is starting to cry. I move over to the loveseat next to her and grasp her shoulder.

"Has he seemed different lately, Mrs. Nelson?" Dean asked. She shook her head vigorously at the thought. "Can we see his room?" she nods and we are lead up the stairs.

The room is small, but organized. Every book is straight on the shelf and not a hair out of place. Something's not right. Why would such a good kid run away with a doll?

"What does the doll look like?" I ask while looking at some of his homework on his desk, all appearing to be done.

"It is a large bear; I can't remember all of the details…oh, it was dressed up as a train conductor, that's it." I shrug off the detail and so do Sam and Dean. We all write down miscellaneous details and finally leave the house. I exhale sharply as we all get in the car.

"What do you think?" I ask, truly dumbfounded. A kid ran away with a doll, what can we do about it? I look at Sam, who shrugs and frowns. I look over at Dean.

"I think the kid just ran away, to be honest." Dean adds.

"But, this is the first disappearance in this case. That can't be a coincidence, can it?" I am starting to feel stressed out.

"There's not much we can do, Claire. We don't know enough." Dean snaps at me. I flinch and angrily start the car.

There has to be more to this. And, I am determined to find out.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note: I am so sorry, you guys. I am extremely busy with midterms and my two jobs. I am going to devoting more time to this story, don't worry. PLEASE REVIEW!


	11. Chapter 11: I Wanna Be Your Hero

Chapter 11: I Wanna Be Your Hero

Author's Note: Hello again, I am on the final stretch of this semester and am starting to fill in some empty spots in this story, so delays are for that reason. Please review!

I keep my eyes on the road, making sure that I don't make eye contact with Dean. I am angry that we are giving up so quickly. This can't be a coincidence.

"I know you're angry, Claire. But, maybe for once this is just a coincidence." Sam says. I stay silent and start contemplating what I'm going to do, but am stopped short by a phone ringing. Sam answers his phone and I can hear Bobby's voice. I strain myself to hear his voice. I look in the rearview mirror right as Sam does and we make eye contact. He flips the phone shut.

"There's been another disappearance." He sighs and I glance over at Dean, who just quickly looks away from me. I _knew_ something was off. I slam on the brakes and do a complete one eighty on the highway and head back for the town we just left.

"Where did they disappear from? That's more than likely where Mrs. Nelson's boy went?" I ask.

"The park up the road from her house." Sam huffs and I push the accelerator to the floor.

By the time we get back, it is dark out and everything is much harder to navigate. We reach the park and we quickly get out of the car. I look over at Dean, who is about to toss me a gun. I catch it with much more ease than I thought I would, as they help themselves to my arsenal.

"Hopefully you didn't get rusty on us." Dean mutters as he cocks the rifle. I button up my green jacket and we make our way through the brisk night. The air gets colder as we reach the edge of the forested area.

"It shouldn't be this cold, it's July." I mutter, rubbing my arms putting my gun under the waistband of my jeans, just like Dean taught me.

"You're right. It's not actually this cold, its sign of a supernatural presence. And, we've only had small breezes, but this is an entire atmosphere of spirits. Whatever this thing is has to be in here." Sam looks at the woods. As if on cue, we hear a loud child-like scream come from the forest. We all quickly run directly towards it trying to find the source. I draw the gun from my waist and try to keep up with the boys. Another scream echoes around us and we stop.

"Should we split up?" I ask. Dean smirks and scoffs at me.

"You're a smart girl, you really think that's a good idea? Scary movies show you what will happen."

"Well, alright-" I am cut short by a blow to the chest and my body is effortlessly thrown into a tree. My head is flung back into the trunk, and my chest feels almost sunken in. I fall directly on my side, causing the last of the air in my lungs to escapes me, and I hear a faint pop come from my back. My vision is blurry.

"Claire!" I hear Dean's voice come toward me as I stagger to my feet, using the tree as leverage. My eyes float up to Dean, who is also thrown up against a tree. My reaction time is slower, and I don't react until he is on the ground.

"D-Dean!" I stutter and stumble over to him. When I reach him, a gunshot causes me to jump out of my skin. Sam has shot something. He runs over to Dean and I and I can't focus. I look into Dean's eyes and he can't seem to focus either. I grab his arms and attempt to lift him, but he is too heavy, and the pain is getting greater. Sam notices and helps him up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He stands up and shakes his head like a wet dog. "But, now I'm mad." He picks his gun back up and storms further and I follow suit. My vision is back to normal, but the pounding in my head and the pain in my side is increasing. After what seems like miles later, we reach a cave. I grab my knees and start huffing. I can't do this…Dean grabs my hand and pulls me forward. "We're not leaving you, Claire. This is a great time to do some cardio." We start running into the cave and it is a different atmosphere all by itself. It feels much damper and even colder. The width of the cave varies from comfortable enough to have us stand side by side to hardly enough room for one person. We start squeezing through the harsh walls and hear another scream. We follow the echo and enter an open part of the cave and we can all move around again. The smell is pungent and hits us all at once.

"Help!" we hear a young child's voice come from the other side of the cave. I withdraw my gun from the waist and start running with the boys. The smell gets stronger as we reach the source of the voice. We finally stumble upon an opening in the walls and the sight is grotesque. The body of, judging by the boy's appearance, the Nelson boy is strewn about the floor in multiple pieces. I have to look away with disgust and cover my mouth. He has to be the source of the smell. Dean notices my demeanor and rests his hand on my shoulder.

"We have to keep going." He gently guides my body away from the travesty. I yell for the other boy.

"What's your name?!" There's a brief silence.

"Jory!" a strained voice calls out and we continue to follow the voice. We finally reach the voice and find Jory tied up from an unknown source from the ceiling. I put my gun in my waist and start to walk toward the boy.

"Watch out for me while I get him down." They both nod and I pull out my pocketknife and I examine the rope he is hanging from. Jory looks emaciated after not eating for a few days. His eyes are sunken in and full of worry. I start cutting at the rope and can't seem to make any headway. Something's not right; I just had this knife sharpened. I exhale and am shocked to see a gust of visible breath come out of my mouth. A small moan comes from above me and I make eye contact with Jory. His eyes slowly fade to pitch black. I gasp and stumble backwards into Dean, who makes sure I don't fall backward. "What the hell?"

"Hello there. I thought you guys would never show up." The boy's voice is now that of a grown man with a sickly twinge. "Jory was starting to smell." My heart drops. He was dead this whole time? I look over at Sam who has pursed lips and a sullen look on his face. Dean steps in front of me.

"You sick bastard." He growls. The demon just laughs. The little boy laughing with a detached voice made it much more sickening. Sam lifts up his gun and aims it at Jory. I feel a twinge of pain, not sure if it were physical or emotional. I decide it is both. I know that Jory is dead, but shooting a boy doesn't seem right. Sam and Dean have infinite more experience than I have, so I leave it to him.

"Do you honestly think that will do anyt-" the demon starts saying before Sam shoots him, causing him to sizzle and shiver. He starts to rip the ropes with ease and he slithers to the ground and begins coughing. That wasn't enough. He staggers to his feet and he is slowly walking toward us.

"Umm, so should we-" I begin. Dean grabs my bicep and nods.

"Run." He pulls me toward another opening in the cave and Sam follows behind. A large roar goes on behind us and we run faster. We run past the other dead boy and I have to emotionally push that aside to keep my sanity. My legs are close to giving out as I keep stumbling over uneven ground. My lungs are burning and my mouth has lost all moisture. The running is seemingly endless as we keep running into dead ends like a demented maze. I absentmindedly wonder if the victims went through the same thing we are with all of the running and horror. Shrieks are still behind us and I am somehow able to keep up with Sam and Dean. I start to slow down, the monster not too far behind us. Dean notices and hoists me onto his shoulder and he has my legs pinned to his chest. We notice an opening to the end of the tunnel and see the moonlight and I can feel some sort of relief. If we die, at least we got close. The monster is still in sight and I notice the gun is still in my hands. With my body bouncing around, I find some leverage by placing one hand on Dean's back and I slowly lift my torso up. The strain is hurting my back, but I ignore it and I can feel Dean tense up. I use one arm to aim at the monster that is gaining on us. I cock the pistol back, knowing I have only one salt casing left. I finally shoot the gun and it lands right in the middle of his chest. His shriek suddenly got louder and he stops. Dean turns around, me still on his shoulder, and slowly lowers me and keeps a hold on me when I'm finally on solid ground. The monster is starting to evaporate and he finally disappears in a burst of light. Sam grabs his knees and chuckles nervously. I struggle to catch my breath and attempt to calm myself down. I wriggle my way out of Dean's grasp.

"Are you alright?" Dean mutters in my direction. I don't answer, I just need to get out of this cave before I lose it. The adrenaline is overwhelming and I don't feel like myself. I just shot a child. He was dead, but I can't get the gunshot sound out of my head. The light of the forest beckons me to finally walk out of the place that was almost our tomb. The cool air soothes my overheated body. I lift my face up to meet the rain and let the drops caress my face.

The silence is calming, yet ominous. We are all just realizing just how close of a call that was. I turn around and see Sam and Dean staring at me. I can't quite place their expression. Almost like I was dangerous.

"What?" my voice is suddenly hoarse and shaky. Sam approaches me slowly and I'm still confused. When he reaches me, he envelops my body in a hug. He lowers his hand and wraps his fingers around my hand to retrieve the pistol I am holding and he throws it backward toward Dean, who I hear catching it. Why am I being hugged? We are all slowly growing damper, and I slowly raise my arms to hug him back. I feel another hand on my shoulder, which I assume belongs to Dean. I never realized how large Sam is. My head rests just below the center of his chest. He has to lean down to rest his chin on my head. One of his hands could easily cover my face. I slowly let go of him and rotate to see Dean, who looks hesitant to speak and for the first time, I notice Dean looking toward Sam for guidance.

"What's the matter with you guys?" I mutter and back away.

"Are you alright?" Sam inches closer. This is really what's wrong?

"We're alive, aren't we?" I frown.

"You just killed something." Dean says without looking at me. "Your first kill, Claire. We would've been goners if it weren't for you."

"Is that bad?" I scoff.

"No, we are grateful, we just didn't expect you to do that." Sam explained while slicking his hair back. My adrenaline level is slowly coming back down and I realize more and more what has just happened. I just killed my first demon, but why am I not feeling remorse anymore. Am I heartless? I slowly raise my hand to my mouth. Adrenaline is slowly turning to fear.

"Why don't I feel anything?" I speak finally as I lean to support myself on a tree.

"The thing you shot wasn't human, Claire. It was trying to kill us. You shouldn't feel bad." Sam explained.

"You're a real hunter now." Dean piped up and started to walk closer to Sam and I. "It's not so glamorous, is it?" I am beginning to feel too hot, so I peel off the now wet jacket. The cool air and cool rain soothes my inflamed skin.

"Now I know what a TV dinner feels like." I chuckled. Sam immediately laughs, but Dean took a minute to let the reference sink in before he broke.

"All you're missing now is barefeet and eleven bad guys and we'll have ourselves our very own John McClane." Dean smiles his rare, crooked smile. I throw the jacket over my shoulder.

"Yippee ki-yay."


End file.
